


Magnets

by kuchi



Series: curious sympathy [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Comeplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-23 01:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuchi/pseuds/kuchi
Summary: There are little things that Stan's still discovering about his boyfriend. Smut.





	Magnets

“Give me those,” Kyle waves a vague hand in the direction of my sweatpants, where he last left them on the bed, next to me.

I look up. He just walked in from the bathroom wearing no pants and only socks, sweater in hand, and he’s bouncing on his toes a little, no doubt from the cold. His dark green dress shirt is half unbuttoned, starting at the bottom. All of this looks particularly ridiculous on his lanky frame.

“Did you just get back?”

Kyle went to run some errands, after my birthday dinner at my parents’ (Mom’s insistence), but she drove me straight back to his apartment, since I kind of had a little too much to drink. So, I’m already in bed.

“Uh huh, yeah.” He bounces towards the chair in the corner, and stumbles a little as he sits down, almost missing it. Sounds like he had a little too much as well. I hope someone drove him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, dude,” he says carefully. “Have you seen my glasses?”

“On your face?”

He reconsiders, with a sheepish smile, “Okay, maybe a little tipsy.”

He takes them off and folds them on the desk, pausing, then pushing them away from the edge. He motions towards the sweatpants again, swivelling the chair around with his ankles.

“They’re mine, you know,” I point out. I don’t actually care, I just want to mess with him a little.

“Oh? And do you actually ever wear them?”

He’s already indignant. I can't help but smile. I love messing with Kyle when he's out of it. I’ve definitely sobered up myself (mainly from trying to reply to awkward extended family birthday wishes. I hate Facebook.) I’m not too big to admit it’s all the more fun having the definite advantage of a clear head.

“I can’t if you’re always stealing them,” I reply.

“Come on, Stan.”

He approaches the bed, so I quickly grab them and put them behind me.

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Really?”

I barely have time to register it before he’s on me, pushing my arms down into the bed and grabbing behind me. I have to laugh. He knows what I’m playing at.

I immediately shove them back against the bed, knocking them out of his reach. He actually growls a little in frustration. This is too easy.

It’s not hard to rile him up when he’s in a normal state, but this is just way too easy.

“ _Give them to me,_ ” he says through his teeth. I can tell that he’s trying not to sound too annoyed, but it’s a losing battle. I smirk up at him.

“If you win.”

He sighs. Shakes his head a little bit, obviously irritated now. But as I watch his face, his expression changes. It looks almost cocky.

He squares his shoulders. “Fine. Let’s see.”

I’ll entertain him, definitely. Kyle can be pretty vicious at wrestling, but if I'm trying I win these things more often than not. Besides, in his state, he’s not going to achieve anything except getting more annoyed. But it’ll be fun to watch him try.

“And if you win? You get to hoard some old pants that you won’t even wear?”

“If I win, then…” I pretend to think hard about it. “You have to go down on me. You know, birthday treat.”

Okay, so I’ve already had a _birthday treat_ this morning, but what the hell. I’m feeling lazy.

He raises both eyebrows. “Feeling frisky, huh? Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Stan.”

He goes to push me down, but his aim is clumsy, and I dodge out of the way, turning so I can get in at the right time. I slam him down into the bed with little effort. Easy. I smile down at him, “What was that again?”

He huffs a little, and I climb over his hips, ready to pin him there with my legs to stop him moving around. But he’s squirming a lot, and before I manage it, he kicks his knee up hard against my leg. And it _hurts_.

He’s playing dirty. I loosen my grip in surprise from the pain, and in the second it takes me to recover, he flips us over so he’s straddling me. He pushes his whole weight on me, digging his knees into the mattress, hard. I buck up against it. I’m laughing with him - but to be honest I can hardly breathe.

When I go to grab his arm, he’s already alert, and goes for my shoulders, shoving them back down and gripping them forcefully. I wish I was wearing a shirt, if only just to ease up the friction and help lessen his hold a little. He’s trying his hardest to make sure I don’t have a way out and it’s working.

He looks at me and smirks. I know he’s counting seconds in his head. I feel hot, suddenly, pinned between his legs. I only relax when he does. His palms are sweaty, slipping down towards my chest.

“I win.” He smiles wide, and his eyes leave mine to scan around the bed for the sweatpants.

I feel the tips of his fingers pressing into my collarbone, and further up still, pressing into my neck. My skin is crawling with heat, uncomfortably so.

I sigh overdramatically, managing to grab the pants from somewhere above me and dropping them to my side. He turns briefly in acknowledgement, but his eyes are back on me quick enough. He glances down from my eyes to his own hands.

I know I should say something right now, but it’s like any awareness of my surroundings rushes out of me. My brain is focused only on the sensation of his fingers; squeezing a little against my throat, experimentally, and then caressing. I swallow.

Kyle continues the movement, circling my neck. His expression is off, a little curious. I can only hear myself breathe. I _know_ Kyle knows.

My dick is hard under him. I feel him shift against it. I don’t think anyone is going to be putting on any more clothing right now.

Kyle starts rocking a little, back and forth against me. He’s warm. My hips lift up to meet him before I can stop them.

“You know,” he says quietly, slowly, “if you want me blow you again, you can just ask.”

He keeps his hands on my neck, stooping to kiss me lightly, “Because I will.”

He gazes down confidently. He’s so sure of himself, it surprises me a little. He really must be tipsy. I don’t reply. I slip my hands under his shirt, sliding them up his chest. I hear his breath catch when I graze his nipples slightly. He takes it from there, undoing the remaining buttons and pulling it off.

I waste no time. I grope blindly between us, pulling down my pajamas and Kyle’s underwear as well. Kyle lifts his hips to help me, sinking back down immediately. The thin fabric of my boxers is the only thing between us, and when I feel Kyle’s cock twitch against mine, I _really_ wish it wasn’t there. But it feels way too good to move from this position right now.

Our breaths are coming ragged already, and I automatically thrust against him.

Kyle grinds down on me properly now, our cocks rubbing together against the fabric. He leans over me, kissing me deeply. He’s fervent, biting down and licking against my lips. His hands are still clasped around my neck and it’s all I can do to keep up with him. I can’t help but moan into it. I grab his face in my hands, glad that I can give them something to do.

When our lips part, his face is intense. I acutely feel the weight of his body on top of mine, in a very different way than before.

He stares. He’s just looking at me, not a hint of nervous energy. This is pretty unlike Kyle. I feel a wave of warmth seep through my body, held in place so snugly under his gaze and his weight and his scent. It feels really fucking good. So much so that when he tries to pull away and inch down the bed, I only pull him closer, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.

“Actually, I - uh. Stay here for a bit,” I manage to say. I feel so good right now. Kyle nods imperceptibly, breaking my grasp and reaching down between us.

And then I have an idea.

This might be the only time I can convince him to do this.

“There’s something else - something different you could do for me instead,” I venture.

Kyle looks up, his hand pausing on the elastic at my waist, ready to pull it down. I push it away, meeting his expectant gaze.

“Jerk yourself off,” I say.

Kyle blinks.

He’s _clearly_ underwhelmed by this suggestion, and before he can interrupt, I say, “Right here, I mean.” I place my hands back on his hips to confirm where I want him.

“For me,” - his eyes widen - “just, don’t - um, don’t touch me. I only wanna see. Please.”

Kyle’s face scrunches up as he considers this. I’m trying to give him my best puppy dog eyes.

He falters a little, maybe wondering why the fuck I want that, and then finally, he’s reaching for his dick. I follow him with my eyes, breathing hard. He hesitates a little.

“Just do whatever you do when you’re by yourself.” My heart is beating fast. I know I’m pushing it, asking for a _show_. I've never been able to get Kyle to agree to this.

But I can almost feel the arousal in his eyes, bearing on me like heat.

“Okay,” he starts, “pass me something that -?” I grab the first usable thing I see, lotion, from the bedside table. It'll do. Kyle pauses for a moment, but then he thinks better of it and slicks up his hand.

He sits up a little more. I’m already touching him, dragging my hands down his thighs, long strokes, careful not to get too close. I know it gets to him. He wraps his hand around his cock, and strokes tentatively, right up to the tip. His eyes are closed slightly, face tipped towards the ceiling.

He’s pretty worked up already from the fighting (I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t my intention) and he squirms around, pressing his ass right onto my cock. The pressure is perfect. I watch him. He’s breathing hard, making rough little noises in his throat.

Kyle sets a rhythm. My eyes follow the movements of his closed hand, honing in on the sight, from the sharp angles of his knuckles down to the loose grip he makes with his fingers. He sticks to the head, with tiny motions that seem to pack a lot of sensation. 

I can’t stop watching. I don’t realise that I’m completely still until Kyle stops and opens his eyes, peering at me. I swallow.

“Keep going,” I manage, still fixed on the sight of his hand around his cock, and I can’t tear my eyes away. I begin to grind up against him more, matching his rhythm. He pushes back.

I let my hands leave his hips, trailing them up his chest, not missing the little trail of thick auburn hair on his stomach. I let the heel of my palm press rough against his nipples occasionally, one then the other, and he bucks his hips hard each time. I don't linger there - and I know that drives him wild.

I don’t know where to look. Kyle’s chest is flushed all the way up to his long neck, and when I find his face, there’s so much concentration in his brow that it sends a shiver up my spine. I watch him swallow down moans, his Adam’s apple working with the movement. Sweat glistens on his shoulders, and on the bony edges of his clavicles. I want to lick him. Kyle digs one arm into the mattress, trying to keep himself steady, and my eyes follow it down, tracing the veins, watching the tendons in his wrist tense.

He’s getting faster now, and I know the rapid, short wrist movements all too well. 

His eyes are closed in pleasure, but there’s something so wide open, so unabashed about his expression, that it makes me want to beg him. For something, I don’t know what. My head reels. I’m ready to meet his eyes when he opens them. He looks a little taken aback.

“Keep going,” I whisper, again, because that’s all I can manage.

He rakes his eyes over me, nodding his assent. I watch him watch me, and he looks hungry. It makes me groan and grind up, my cock hard and searing against him, urging him on.

I can tell he’s getting closer. He leans down and kisses me forcefully, thrusting an arm against my chest for balance, the other still on task. I wrap my hands right around his thighs to steady him. I’m kissing him back, as wet and rough as I’m getting.

Kyle grunts against me. He’s violent, all tongue, and I feel the sensation electric in my stomach.

I feel the muscles in his legs tense around me. He’s so close, shaking. There’s only one thing in my mind.

“Come on,“ I mumble into his mouth, “ _Come_ ,” and I _am_ begging him now, kissing his jaw, and neck, open-mouthed-

And he does, a long, ragged moan drawing from his throat. He’s coming right onto my chest, and it’s like a switch flips inside me. I feel like I’m on fire.

Every inch of my body is suddenly on high alert. Fuck. My only thought is that - _God_ \- I want him to _mark_ me. He sits up and strokes himself through his orgasm, eyes practically feasting on me, deliberately draining the last of his come onto my body. I relish in it, matching his moans. It feels fucking amazing. 

In a split second, his whole demeanour changes. His eyes are wide and he fumbles as he looks down at the mess. “Shit - ah,” he starts, barely catching his breath, but I really don’t have the patience for it.

“Kyle,” I moan, I can’t help it, and it drags his attention back up to my face.

I bore my eyes into him. I feel eager, impatient, and so fucking turned on. I don’t know what’s in my expression, but it works, and he calms down instantly, looking at me curiously. I’m still rubbing myself up against him, my movements involuntary now.

Kyle drags a hand up, experimentally, trailing it through the mess on my chest. His other hand comes to rest against my face. I know what he’s going to do before he does it, and when he looks at me again, eyes wide, I lean forward and take his approaching fingers into my mouth like I’ve been waiting for it. I suck them in, shamelessly. Kyle’s other hand scrambles underneath my boxers, palming my cock. His hand works fast, and my body writhes with the movement, with the crude thrill of just being _fed_ his come - the combination is definitely enough.

“I'm so close,” I gasp.

Kyle’s hand suddenly stills and he rolls off me in one quick motion. I moan at the loss.

I look up. His eyes are glinting.

“It’s your turn.” He says with a smirk.

It takes me a moment to register what he means.

What a _dick_. I'm disoriented from the sudden lack of contact. When did he get so fucking sneaky?

“Touch yourself,” Kyle says impatiently.

He sits back a bit, so our bodies aren’t touching anywhere. Unfair. My hand goes to my cock. I lean my head back, getting comfortable on the pillow. Kyle watches me as I jerk off. I stroke firmly, thinking about how I'm going to fucking destroy his composure next time. He’ll beg me. Maybe I won't even get him off at all, at the end of it, and -

Kyle sits up straighter suddenly, cocking his head at me curiously. After a moment he comes and leans on his elbow, cautiously, by my head. I follow him with my eyes, sighing a moan - what the _fuck_ could he want now? - but then he’s leaning down and kissing me softly, a hand against my cheek and the other stroking tenderly in my hair.

My heart skips and my hands fumble at the unexpected gentleness - and then I'm stroking faster and faster, the contrast in his demeanour spurring me on. Kyle’s lips leave mine and he watches me as I moan into the space between us. His face is inches away; he blinks once, twice. I can see the faint shadows of his lashes against his cheek; hear his gentle breaths, post-orgasm, so much calmer than mine.

His expression is so tender. Careful. He trails his hand up again, lazily spreading his come over my chest (fuck yes), before bringing it to my mouth again. Only the briefest hesitation in his eyes.

I accept it. He watches me with an intense quietness as I kiss around his hand, licking off his palm, his fingers, between his knuckles. He breathes out shakily, and kisses away the sweat above my eyes, smooths back the hair falling into them. Fuck. I want to do everything, anything for him. I want to come for him.

I do, soon enough, my hand squeezing my cock, my eyes closed against the overwhelming feeling. I savour the taste of him on my tongue, cleaning up his hand, my mouth kissing wet and languid along the side of it. I make sure to do a thorough job. 

Kyle's eyes squeeze shut when mine do, and he moans softly, shuddering and leaning his forehead against mine.

He can't beat me.

He’s kissing me again when I come down from it. I laugh nervously, still breathing hard, and so does he. I know he’s sobered up enough to feel more than a little exposed, a little bit startled at his own actions.

We catch our breath.

I kiss his fingers where they are, against my chin.

Kyle smiles sheepishly. “Okay?”

I immediately pull him in, hugging him against me, my hand on the back of his neck in a gesture that’s almost protective. I'm sure my face, my chest, my stomach, is all a total mess, but I don't care right now. I press my lips carefully somewhere near his temple, trailing my other hand along the small of his back. Kyle trembles at that touch, of all things.

I don't know what's different; why this feels delicate all of a sudden. I'm overwhelmed by an urge to just fucking stop everything and hold him against me forever.

He gets up eventually. I start to feel tired as I come down from the high and I go to turn over, but yup, there’s our come all over me. Kyle is already on it though. I watch his hands clean me up with the boxers that he took off. It’s a little sloppy.

“Gross,” I say absently, closing my eyes and turning over onto my side. I see the sweatpants, and throw the damn things at his face.

Kyle laughs lightly and puts them on quickly. He turns the light off and climbs into bed. Again, I wrap him in my arms straight away. It’s getting colder. I’m already starting to feel the chill, despite how sweaty we just got.

Kyle turns to me. “Stan,” he says simply, eyes light in spite of his sleepy demeanour. I kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you've enjoyed this series, especially if you read it in order! And the fics are each about a couple of weeks apart in my head, if thats of interest to anyone


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